Page 31 of A Manny for Christmas

MOLLY

‘What was all that about earlier?’ I ask Sadie. She and Clara are hanging around, pretending to shoot footage of me icing the church for my gingerbread village in the hope of gleaning some gossip. The breakfast rush is over, and my team of two pastry chefs is working on making sourdough and prepping for lunch while I play catch up with this bloody village.

‘What?’ she asks innocently, leaning in with her phone to record as I pipe the palest blue line icing around the edges of the gingerbread pieces that will form the body of the church. My plan is to flood the rest of the church ‘walls’ with a deeper, duck-egg blue icing after lunch once the lines are set. Clara’s taking photos too, or pretending to, at least, her SLR camera looming close to the orderly gingerbread pieces.

I pause my piping so I can fix Sadie with a glare. ‘Telling Max about my date with Paul.’

She grins, looking totally unapologetic. ‘I don’t know what your game is with Mr Hottie—’

‘I have no game,’ I assure her.

‘—but there is absolutely no downside to letting one delicious man know you have a date with another delicious man. Trust me.’

‘Who is Max?’ Clara demands, peering at her camera’s digital display.

‘Maxis Angus’ very hot, very ripped younger brother who Molly here dated foryears, back in the day, and who has turned up and isstayingwith her, and mannying for her kids—yes, mannying—and may or may not have been in a fight this morning, which makes him even hotter in my book.’

Clara’s eyes widen, and I sigh and set down the piping bag. I’m never going to get this damned thing finished with this pair around.

‘He didn’t get in a fight. At least, not a proper one. He was on the receiving end of Daisy’s foot when he tried to get her tights on this morning. It seems his first day on drop-off duty did not go well.’

They both giggle.

‘Oh, Jesus. That must have hurt his pride as much as his nose,’ Sadie gasps.

‘I knew you went out with Angus’ brother, but I didn’t know he was still in the picture,’ Clara says, twisting a strand of long, glossy dark hair. Clara’s parents are Italian, and the woman is a walking Fellini movie.

‘He’s not in the picture. Him showing up here was totally random. He didn’t even know Angus had got me a job here. Can you believe it? Men are such bad communicators. So it’s been a real shock to see him again.’

‘But he’s looking after Daisy and Tobes for you?’ Clara persists. ‘How the hell did that come about?’

I sigh. ‘He showed up out of the blue, hoping to stay with Angus and Evelyn for a few weeks. He’s been in Africa these past few years—he works for WaterAid.’ I catch the approving look they give each other. ‘I know. It’s sickening. Anyway, they have no room, obviously, and Evelyn had mentioned to Angus that I needed childcare.’ I shrug. ‘And so the worst idea ever was born.’

‘It’s brutal,’ Sadie muses. ‘Stuck with a huge, positively edible hunk of manliness under your very own roof when the nights are at their coldest… Bloody nightmare.’

‘Please fuck off.’

‘His smile is extraordinary, though, isn’t it?’ she continues, unbothered. ‘I mean, it basically exemplifies the concept of thecome to bedsmile. And when I mentioned your date with Paul…’ She shudders in delight and turns to Clara. ‘His face was like thunder. I’m not exaggerating.’

‘No, because you never exaggerate,’ I say with an eye roll.

Clara looks fit to burst. ‘This is so exciting!’

‘I thought you were excited about my date with Paul,’ I say wearily.

She deflates. ‘Yeah, I am. I mean, it’s a high-quality problem, right? If there are gorgeous men fighting over you?’

‘No one is fighting over me.’ My voice is firm. ‘Max and I deliberately called it a day a long time ago, for good reason. If we can salvage some kind of friendship after all this time, then I suppose that’s something to be grateful for, but there’s nothing else to it. I’m going to focus on my date with Paul, and that’s the end of the matter.’

I just wish getting excited about my date with Paul came more naturally to me. I’ve been so busy worrying about it that I haven’t had time to look forward to it, and since Max showed up, he’s commanded more of my headspace than I’d care to admit.

Clara cocks her head to one side. ‘How long since you and Max broke up?’

‘Too long ago. Twelve years. And I’ve had a husband since then, remember?’

‘There’s no expiry date on true love,’ she says excitedly. ‘Look at me and Alex—we were apart fortwenty-one yearsbefore we found each other again. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.’

‘That’s totally different,’ I argue. ‘You and Alex were torn apart in the most horrific circumstances. He went to prison, for God’s sake. You’d never have broken up otherwise. Max and I called it a day. It was mutual.’

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